


and a harder down than stone

by Niki



Series: Fear of Ghosts [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: First Time, M/M, Mass Effect 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-18
Updated: 2011-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-19 13:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niki/pseuds/Niki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was Chora's Den with its Asari dancers that started it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and a harder down than stone

**Author's Note:**

> Yuletide 2008 story for Sidrin.

It was Chora's Den with its Asari dancers that started it.

I admit, I was staring at the dancers. So what if they were blue and had tentacles in their heads? Looked fine enough to me. Of course, Shepard was looking too, and, well, I suddenly wished we weren't.

Then Ash said something derogatory; I don't even know which really pissed her off more, the fact we were being such guys, or the fact we were looking at aliens. Of course she directed her comments at me. Shepard's off-limits. Not only because he's our CO, I also think Ash has a little crush going on.

It was still Shepard who answered.

"Women are playthings," he said, flashing her an insolent grin.

Now it was Ash's turn to stare with her mouth open.

"I *beg* your pardon!" she huffed. "Is that how you see *me* too?"

"Are you a woman?" Shepard asked pointedly. "Or are you a soldier?"

"I can't be both?" she asked, even angrier now.

"Why would you want to be? Women are playthings. Soldiers are for companionship."

He glanced at me when saying that. I tried to keep my face blank.

Ash of course saw the glance and decided to attack the logic on Shepard's statement.

"What about men?" she asked mischievously.

"Men are playthings, too," Shepard said, distractedly, having spotted our target in a table other side of the room.

He marched purposefully towards the old drunkard. Ash was staring after him with her mouth hanging open (again), and I was rooted to the spot. She of course recovered fast, and I saw a fleeting expression of distaste on her face.

"Wouldn't have taken *him* for a..." She stopped herself before a derogatory term got out.

"Why not?" I asked, without heat.

"Because he's so... so... man!"

I didn't know whether to laugh or curse. Occasionally Ash's religious background shines through way too brightly.

"Would you please join the rest of us in this millennium? I thought we left those attitudes in the dark ages," I muttered.

"Would you *both* please join me on this mission?" Shepard's sarcastic voice startled us, and we both stood on attention reflexively.

"Sir!"

"Good."

\- - -

Or maybe it was the way in which our gruff commander turned off the sarcastic attitude when we were alone, and listened to me when I talked about things. Things I'd never told anyone before.

He didn't make insensitive comments about Rhana or my relationship with her as I'd feared he would, nor did he make them about Vyrnnus. Both surprised me. He's not the most sensitive guy around.

He also seemed to actually listen to the things I had to say about our mission, or the politics surrounding it all. Not that he'd always follow those suggestions but at least he listened.

\- - -

Maybe it was the fact he didn't let me die on Virmire.

\- - -

Then again, maybe it was the time he slammed me against the lockers and proceeded to kiss me senseless.

I had no idea he was going to do that, or even wanted to. He flirts with everyone in his tough, sarcastic way. Ash, Liara, me, the damn Requisitions Officer, Garrus. I swear, even Wrex at times. The way he smiles, jokes, moves... Or is it just me? I don't know. He has me so confused... I've never lost my concentration to this level over a commanding officer.

Which is just so wrong on so many levels I don't even know where to start.

But there we were, kissing in full sight of anyone who would happen to walk by, living and moving invitation to a court martial and I didn't give a damn.

The few men I've been with have all been civilians. Safer that way. They've never been a physical equal to me, and the knowledge Shepard was stronger than me, and was using that advantage, was a surprising turn on.

I don't mean I was a passive subject to his attentions, oh no. I was kissing him back with all the hunger and frustration I'd collected during our mission, and digging my fingers into his skin... Skin? When did I slide my hands under his shirt?

Damn, we have to stop!

He's staring at me with an unreadable expression while we fight to get our breath back. Then he smirks. No, no, not that.

"Well, well, well," he drawls, and I want to crawl into my sleeping pod and never come out. He's not going to use *this* against me, when he didn't do so with my other confidences.

He must see the anger sparkling in my eyes because his smile transforms, and he raises his hand to touch me. On anyone else I would call it gentleness but that's a word I'd never connect to his battle scarred face and rough physique.

Joker's voice interrupts us before his hand makes contact with my face. Shit, Joker. I suddenly remember the cameras all over the ship. Did he watch?

"Another time," Shepard says, with regret in his voice, before he leaves and I'm left to lean on the lockers, trying to gather my wits.

\- - -

What ever started it, whatever this is, has led me here.

I'm pacing the floor right outside the captain's cabin, debating whether I should go in. We're on our way to Ilos, where this thing will be resolved, one way or another.

I - we - have one night to settle whatever this is.

Well, regardless of everything else, I want him to know I support him in this. I'm honoured to have served by his side, even though his methods haven't always met with my approval.

So I knock on the door and walk in.

He's sitting by the desk, studying star charts but gets up when I approach.

"Kaidan," he says quietly.

We haven't been alone together since that kiss. I swear there's uncertainty lingering in his eyes.

I tell him what I came here to tell, about my feelings on the whole mutiny thing, and serving with him.

"Is that all you want to say?" he asks, and now it's my turn to feel insecure.

"I, well..."

I don't know what he wants from me so I don't know what to want from him. Am I just a plaything, too? Would he just use me to reduce stress before tomorrow? Would that be enough for me? Do I even want it?

Well, maybe fraternising is a small problem compared to the mutiny but am I willing to risk my whole career for a tumble?

I meet his determined grey eyes and swallow. Yes. The answer is yes. I'd risk anything for just a taste.

I'm not very good at keeping all that off my face it seems, because he takes a step toward me to stand in my personal space, so close I can almost feel his breath on my lips.

"Stay," he says, and it's more of an invitation than I expected. The not-gentleness is back on his face, with a fair amount of hunger.

"Yes," I get out before his lips are on mine, and it's the previous kiss all over again.

We're holding and sucking and licking and nibbling, and everything in between. It's almost like wrestling, the passionate way we make towards his bed (why is it so far away?)... and then we are on it, me on top, and we roll and fight for position and before I know we're struggling for clothes.

We have to stop kissing to get rid of our boots, and we laugh because our pants are tangled up in our knees and we fight with straps and laces. Something tears and something else snaps, and then our lips find each other again.

Skin finds skin, and everything is hot and hard and smooth at the same time. Scars meet scars, teeth mar flesh, and I love him so much it hurts and I never ever want this moment to stop.

The thought makes stop, mid-kiss. I roll us so that I'm on top again. I spend a long moment just searching his face, flushed with desire, eyes hazy with lust. Is that all there is?

He moves his head up, reaching for my lips but I move back until he gets the point. He could of course move his hands from my hips to my head but he seems to sense I don't want it, not now. He lies still, letting me hover there just beyond his reach. He doesn't say a word but doesn't try to hurry me either.

I move my head closer, as if to kiss him.

"Am I a man or am I a soldier?" I ask, face inches from his.

"You can be both," he answers, smiling, and pulls me down for that kiss.


End file.
